


Ten Things I Can't Hate About You

by coveryourheads (rsk110)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Friendship, M/M, One Shot, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 12:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsk110/pseuds/coveryourheads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glenn thinks of Daryl differently than the others do.  And he doesn't hate anything he sees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Things I Can't Hate About You

**Author's Note:**

> Unapologetic use of poem from film "10 Things I Hate About You"  
> Mostly Pre-S2 through Post-S2  
> I'm horrible at summaries so sorry if it isn't. :)

... _I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair_... 

"Yo Short Round! You done with my knife?!" Daryl barks at him. Glenn pretends he's not heard, concentrating on helping Lori and Carol. Daryl's knife is sharper than his. And the doe Daryl had brought back over his shoulder needs a nice sharp knife to gut. He doesn't even know why he'd volunteered to do this. Stomach acid is boiling and he feels like he'll puke. But he's had walker guts all over him and been without a shower for weeks, so this he should be able to handle. The only problem is, he doesn't know if he's doing it right. 

"Hey, Chinaman!" Daryl walks over to check on the progress. Glenn glances back over his shoulder with an exasperated look. 

"I've told you like a hundred times--" 

"Yeah, yeah, you're Korean. I get it. You're doing that all wrong--" 

"I can do it! I have to. We can't ask you to do this all the time," Glenn mumbles and goes back to the task at hand. The doe is gutted and the skinning isn't as clean as he'd seen Daryl do often. He finishes under Daryl's scrutinizing glare. Carol and Lori are glad they can start cooking, as they haven't had anything to eat for four whole days. The fire is burning nicely; all they have to do is roast. Glenn cleans the knife in water and hands it back to Daryl. Daryl looks at it in disgust. He snatches it from Glenn's hand and stomps back to his tent. 

Glenn doesn't know what he's done wrong, but he also doesn't want the older man to be mad at him. He makes his way to the tent set up a bit away from everyone else. He sees Daryl cleaning the knife carefully with a damp towel. It's something he cherishes, Glenn knows, and he's immediately sorry to have borrowed it. But it isn't like Daryl had been angry to have lent it to him. He figures Daryl just says things out of habit and he doesn't mean any harm. Hopefully. Daryl's eyes flick up to Glenn standing near the tent. 

"What d'you want now?" 

Glenn doesn't have an answer. He just watches Daryl huff and go back to what he'd been doing. There's a small mirror most likely borrowed from one of the women. Daryl looks at his reflection, grabs a scruff of hair from his nape and takes his blade to it. 

"Sonuabitch!" Daryl nicks his finger and it goes into his mouth. Glenn takes the knife from Daryl to prevent him butchering his hair, possibly cutting himself deeper. He asks Dale to borrow his scissors. He gives him his word he'll bring it back before the meat is cooked. Glenn asks Daryl how he wants his hair cut. 

"Just cut it so it won't be in the way. Don't gotta look pretty for no one." 

Glenn does the best he can with Dale's rather dull scissors. It's better than the buck knife. He wonders if it's how Daryl's been cutting or shaving all these times. He runs his fingers through the soft light brown hair. He's glad he's sitting behind Daryl so he won't see him grinning like an idiot. He combs out the tangles with his fingers, sheering it off the best he can. It's the first time cutting anyone's hair but it's straight and even. He would have done a lot better if Daryl isn't so fidgety. He pats away cut strands from his neck. Daryl grunts a thanks to him. 

"You're welcome." Glenn can say. He returns to the group congregated around the camp fire and roasted meat. Daryl is following him, fingers in his newly shortened hair. Glenn expects a statement, the ones Daryl throws at him so casually. But there is nothing. 

All through dinner, Daryl doesn't say a word to anyone. Glenn glances at him over the orange glowing fire. Daryl meets his eyes every time. Rick and Shane are talking about some plans they've decided on, though it sounds like they'd argued a lot before coming to a indefinite conclusion. Glenn is only half listening. For some odd reason, he wants Daryl to say something, anything, because he might have a lot more to contribute than just fresh meat. Even if it's a vaguely racist remark he doesn't even mean, he wants Daryl to speak up. He can't say he hates it when Daryl talks and definitely not when speaks to him directly. 

 

... _I hate the way you drive my car_... 

The RV is low on fuel so it has to stop. Actually, all their cars are low on fuel, so they have no choice but to veer away from the freeway they had been driving on. They're surrounded by tall trees, like most of Georgia is, and they can at least camp for the night if they have to. According to the map Glenn's reading, there is a town a few miles ahead. He volunteers to go scavenging for supplies and fuel. Rick hands him the keys to the Cherokee, saying he may need the space if he finds anything good. They make room in the back, and Glenn puts all the empty fuel containers in. He takes a radio and a shot gun. He's about to get into the car. A familiar hand stops him. 

"Maybe you need some lookout?" Daryl is actually volunteering to go with him. Or it may be that he doesn't want to sit around there under the thick weight of whatever drama is going on with the Rick, Shane and Lori. Adding in Andrea who is on the verge of a total break-down. Whatever the reason, Daryl is picking out his choice of gun and his crossbow, laying on the backseat. 

"Sure. Wouldn't hurt." Glenn tries to not sound like it but is genuinely glad because the last time he'd gone into a small town, he'd almost not made it. T-Dog had been with him but he had missed a couple of shots. And Daryl is a much better marksman than he is. Shane is shaking his head while Rick cautions them about being safe and radioing if there's trouble. Lori pulls him away with a small list, mostly feminine products, adding he doesn't have to go out of the way for anything. He smiles at her, letting her know he'll try his best. 

By the time he gets back to the SUV, Daryl's sitting in the driver's side. Glenn lets out a defeated sigh and climbs into the passenger seat. He waves to the group as the truck takes off. 

Daryl may be a good driver, but he drives the big thing like it's his motorcycle. It's like he doesn't know how to use the break. He barely swerves by a flipped car on the road, almost causing their truck to lose control. Glenn holds tightly to whatever he can. Glenn thanks whatever god is still looking out for him when they stop in front of a big discount store. He wipes his forehead and jumps out of the SUV, catching his breath. 

"I'm driving us back," Glenn says. 

Daryl scoffs. "Like hell." 

"I want us to get back alive." 

"Whatever," Daryl says dismissively, grabbing the large backpack and his crossbow out of the truck. 

The front of the discount store is tightly gated. It's a good thing since the stock is probably untouched. The bad thing is that they have to find another way to get in. There is a sign taped on the glass door behind the metal: _God be with you_. They make their way quietly towards the back, looking for another way in. Daryl whistles to get Glenn's attention. There is a fire escape staircase to the second floor. The door there is wood, not metal, so they can probably break it down if they have to. Daryl points to the dumpster a few yards away. They take a good look around the building for any walkers before pushing the big metal box towards the ladder. They make a lot of noise but no undead come their way. At least, not yet. Daryl has to give Glenn a leg up so he can grab the ladder. It pulls down with a loud bang. They make their way up. Glenn is thankful he's not seen a geek being able to climb ladders. But who knows. They climb fast towards the door. 

It's locked, just as predicted. Daryl pushes with his shoulder, kicking it with is boot. It gives a little, but it feels like something is blocking it from the inside. So they push together, hoping it isn't a group of walkers behind it. It finally gives, letting the door open inch by inch. Glenn can fit through but Daryl can't. He slides in first, flashing a light in the room. A big metal desk had been the cause. He pulls at it so the door can be opened. Daryl comes in the room, surveying keenly. 

"Looks like a good spot." 

Glenn nods. It's some kind of storage space above the discount store. The room is dusty and full of boxes but it's walker free. They go through another door and down a staircase. And they're inside the big store, all organized and ready to be salvaged. They separate with silent agreement. Daryl makes a round of the store for any unwelcome living-dead while Glenn stuffs anything they immediately need into his pack. Glenn hits the medicine aisle first. He grabs aspirins and bandages, soap and toothpaste and some of the feminine hygiene products Lori had asked for. He goes for food next, some canned meat, fruits and vegetables, a box of salt, powdered milk and candy bars the kids might like. He wants to take the water but they'd be too heavy. For now he grabs a few big bottles of that fancy mineral water he had never been able to afford before. Next he goes for the batteries and a new flashlight. For himself, he grabs some socks because they always wear out too fast for his liking. 

He meets Daryl at the foot of the staircase. Daryl comes back with a big grin on his face. 

"Found some bolts. Some ammo. No guns though. The owner must have cleaned those out with him." 

He must have gone to the sporting goods section. "Awesome." 

"Found this, too." Daryl shakes a bottle of whiskey in his face. 

"Why would you need that?" 

"Hey, you never know. May wanna celebrate somethin'." Daryl shrugs and climbs up the stairs. 

Glenn follows, closing the door behind him. They settle on bringing the group back here. It'll be a good place to hide and rest for a few days. The streets are clear even after all the noise they had made. Daryl is still cautious and holds his crossbow up while Glenn makes his way down the ladder. Glenn pushes the pulley ladder up and it stays. They are quick to make their way back to the truck. He forgets that he had wanted to drive and Daryl leaves skid marks on the pavement as he leaves the parking lot. 

They spot a small used car dealer a couple miles away. Daryl makes an unnecessary sharp turn into it. 

"Do you need a new car?" Glenn asks. 

"No," Daryl turns the engine off. "Car dealers usually fill up their cars. We just struck gold." 

Daryl is keeping watch while Glenn siphons out gas. He hates to admit it but the man had been right. He only has to go through three vehicles to fill up the Cherokee and all the containers they have. It'll be enough until the group gets here. Glenn washes the taste out of his mouth with the water he'd gotten from the store. Today is a good day with no walker in sight. He has to knock on wood, hoping the luck doesn't run out soon. Feeling accomplished, Glenn sits back. He doesn't even mind Daryl's crazy fast swerving on the empty road. Actually, he thinks he would do the same. Why not? Literally, living each day as if it were the last, makes him want to do things he's never done before. 

And this crazy hotheaded redneck as a constant presence over him may not be a bad thing either. Glenn just hopes the seatbelt is going to hold up. 

 

... _I hate it when you stare_... 

The group is so happy when they return with the goods. They distribute gas while the women make something out of the food. Shane and T-Dog have set up some tents. It is a little too late to drive to the town. So they will camp for the night and make their way early at first light. They're generous enough to let Daryl and Glenn sleep, joking they'll have to drive in the morning. Glenn grins, scooping up the rest of the food Carol cooked for them. He'd saved the candy bars until dinner is over, surprising all of them. Sophia and Carl are ecstatic, giving Glenn hugs. Even Andrea's face lightens up a little, accepting a Snickers bar. 

Glenn usually shares his tent with T but he's taking first watch. He's almost asleep until he hears some rustling at the entrance of his tent. He has his knife out to stake at whatever it is until he realizes it's Daryl holding that bottle of whiskey in his hand. 

"Woah, easy there, kid. Might cut yourself." 

"You scared the crap out of me." 

Glenn watches Daryl toss his boots off, laying his crossbow by them and sitting cross legged in front of him. Daryl gives him a smirk and uncaps the bottle. He shakes his head when offered. Daryl calls him a wuss and some other names. Glenn sits up, aware that he's only in his boxers and the one clean tee shirt he likes to sleep in on really good days. He's also aware the tee is light blue with a printed Snoopy and Woodstock knocking mugs. He takes the bottle, taking a wary sip at first. Daryl is looking at him with a smug expression. So he swallows two big sips, feeling a nice burn down his esophagus. He almost retches but keeps it down. Daryl slaps him on the shoulder, taking a swig from the bottle. 

"See, lil' man. We do have somethin' to celebrate." 

"Tastes horrible." 

"'Cause you ain't drunk enough." 

"What the hell are we celebrating anyway?" 

Daryl shrugs at his question. They pass the bottle back and forth. Glenn feels relaxed when the alcohol sinks in. But he can't help squirming under the intense stare, bright blue even in the darkness. He keeps his eyes on the corner of the tent where he has dumped out some dangerously dirty clothes. Then he's looking at the bottle sitting between them, contemplating on the thing, their situation and what the hell is going on. Daryl breathes evenly, probably not even fazed by the whiskey. He finds the small star tattoo on Daryl's hand, what it might have referenced, and how perfect it is without being overwhelming. He studies the crossbow because he thinks it's honestly the coolest thing, even if there are no undead walking around. Even after, Daryl is staring at his face. 

So he meets the glare, not really understanding. Daryl takes another gulp from the bottle, the whiskey fume effectively filling up the little tent. The bottle is still half full when Daryl caps it. He says he's going to save it for another time. Glenn wonders if that next time will include him. It's a little thrilling and unnerving at the same time, the prospect of another night of drinking whiskey with this brash older man, one he kind of respects and likes and is frightened of still. Daryl is still looking at him like he's got something to say, or waiting for Glenn to. Glenn swallows the remaining taste of whiskey from his mouth. 

"Well, good night..." Glenn says, because he can't think of anything else. 

Daryl says a short parting. To his utter surprise, Daryl puts his hand in his hair, messing it like he would do to a kid. Daryl leaves him all confused and buzzed, listening to night creatures and the leaves rustling in the breeze. The tent feels empty without Daryl and his blue eyes over him. Glenn doesn't fall asleep until T-Dog returns from his watch. 

 

... _I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind_... 

Even Shane approves of their suggested hideout on top of the discount store. They park their cars strategically at the back. Dale is glad for the supplies he can use to try to fix up the RV's diminishing engine. The women are so happy for the unexpected big employee bathroom. There is no hot water, but it isn't a cold creek they have to wash clothes in. Rick thinks they can rest here for a few days, but it isn't a permanent place to live in. He says they should also take watch. The fire escape can take whoever to the roof and it is a very good vantage point. 

Glenn is slightly ill from the sudden intake of alcohol. He barely eats but he drinks as much water as he can. He takes first watch as soon as everything is settled. It's hot on the roof with the sun still shining bright. It's quiet here and makes Glenn think about things. Things like what life had been like before all of this, how he'd gotten here, and what might happen to them eventually. He doesn't want to, and knows he shouldn't, but the heat and boredom makes him think these things. 

He hears the steps and immediately knows who it is. He doesn't think it's been long enough to switch. Dale's wristwatch still works and he keeps timing accurately. And besides, next watch is Shane. Those heavy steps are not Shane's. 

Daryl looks a little pissed off as he climbs up and over the short ledge. He sits under the big umbrella Glenn's set up. 

"Fuckin' hot up here." 

"Yeah," Glenn agrees, a little happy for the company however hostile it may be. He doesn't ask what's up and what he's doing up here. He's learnt after all these months that Daryl doesn't like questions and he doesn't like answering even more. Daryl speaks when he wants to, and sometimes, they aren't mean little phrases he usually throws at people. He just has to wait. 

Daryl hands him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich wrapped in foil. It's from Carol, by the way it's cut diagonally across, just like his mom used to. He thanks him and eats in little bites. The heat hasn't helped his stomach, but peanut butter and jelly is his favorite, even before the apocalypse. The bread maybe questionable, but no one will make him eat anything he can't. So he indulges in it. 

"Here," Daryl says when Glenn is crumpling up the foil. It's two aspirins and a new bottle of water. The water feels cool like it's been sitting in cold water. The small memory of his mom, like the way she had cut his sandwiches, or how she'd known when he was sick, makes him feel like crying. And Daryl isn't his mom, hell, he's nothing to him and he's nothing to Daryl, but it messes with his head anyway. He blames it on the heat and the left over alcohol in his system. 

But somehow, Glenn is wishing he isn't nothing to Daryl. At the least they can be friends. He finds Daryl looking at him. In the light, the blue eyes are more intense and bright. 

"Thank you," Glenn says. He adds, "Daryl." 

Daryl nods with a hint of a smile. It's nice to see, but he wants a little more. It's the first time he's said his name like that. It's the first time because he wants to. Daryl doesn't seem to mind it and he stays with him until his watch is over. He's relieved by Shane, and goes on back inside. 

The storage room is only big enough so they have cleared up some space in the store. There are air mattresses so they've all made good use of them. They can even burn the lamp and not rely on the slits of windows for light. It is quiet because everyone is resting, reading through old useless magazines or corny books from the racks. Glenn has set up his stuff along the long aisle of office products. He tells Rick everything's clear out there. He hears and feels the heavy boots behind him. When he lies down on his sleeping bag, he notices Daryl's only a few feet away, the booted feet on the floor and those eyes staring at him until he falls asleep. 

 

... _I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme_... 

In the middle of their third day, they pack up in a hurry and move out of the store. Thankfully, they'd been practical and stocked up supplies in the cars and gas from the car dealer Daryl had found the day before. There is no time or room to take the air mattresses to much regret. Still it's important to be alive more than anything. Glenn jumps down after Daryl, who's shot down a walker with a hiss of his crossbow. There are a few dozen coming this way according to T who's still on the roof. They have to be quiet and move fast before they get swarmed. 

Glenn helps with the women, the kids and their belongings, while the men are trying to take out any walker who's spotted them. T-Dog is the last one to climb down saying they don't have a lot of time. They are getting into their vehicles and all start their engines at once. Glenn spends time pushing the ladder of the fire escape back up just in case another person needs the store after they're gone. And this takes a little longer than he thought and walkers are rounding the corner to where he's at. He barely makes the jump off of the dumpster, kicking a snatching hand, running as fast as he can. His usual transport, Dale's RV, is a little farther than he likes and the Cherokee is full. He's cursing for the lack of a weapon and he's about to dash down the street. He can see Dale's and Shane's face through the window of the RV. 

That's when he hears the loud roar of the motorcycle, and he hops on before he gets grabbed. Everyone revs out of there, following Daryl's lead. He's unintentionally hugging Daryl's waist tight. No matter how many he sees or shoots them, he's still terrified of the geeks. With all their tanks full, they can go on driving without stopping. Glenn puts his face against Daryl's shoulder to avoid the dirt flying at him. After miles, Rick is flashing high beams so Daryl circles around back to talk to him. There is a picnic area so they should stop to rest for a little. Daryl relays the message to Dale and leads the pack again off the freeway. 

When they are all on the ground, Glenn is still shaking. He's not sure if it's from the walkers or from the rumbling ride or from being way too close to Daryl. Rick and Dale are asking if he's alright. Glenn tells them he's fine. He wants to wash his face off of all the dust and grime from the ride. Dale squeezes his shoulder as he's heading to the small bathroom of the picnic site. The place smells rank and there are spider webs everywhere. There are dead insects in the sink and the water runs dirt so he leaves it on for awhile. There is an unbroken mirror. He studies his reflection. He looks older than he did a few months ago. Weathered and tired, and definitely thinner. The water runs clear enough and it is cool. He throws some on his face and into his hair. It doesn't make him feel any better. 

When he comes up, he sees a face behind him in the mirror. He is pushed into the wall beside the sink, the water still running and all. The hand on his wrist is strong and grinding him into the tile. He's about to yell at him, to let go. 

"You're so fucking stupid, you know that?" 

He can't say anything to that. Daryl's voice isn't gruff or taunting. It sounds like pity or like he's upset but he doesn't know how to express it in any other way. 

"Well, at least..." Glenn tries. Daryl's hand tightens around his wrist. He is momentarily shocked when the firm mouth is pressed against his. He knows it's a kiss. It feels like a kiss. It doesn't register because it's Daryl-fucking-Dixon kissing him. He thinks this is just another way Daryl's invented to snuff out another human being, because he's literally asphyxiated. He opens his mouth to suck in some air, and when he does, Daryl's lips are locked against his and his tongue invades his mouth. Glenn feels the fingers in his hair, tracing down and holding his face still, a calloused fingertip against the shell of his ear, the rough thumb rubbing under his eye. Glenn's one free hand ends up somewhere around Daryl's upper arm, near where there is this tattoo of a demon, and he holds tight because he likes this a lot. He doesn't want to be the first one to let go and Daryl certainly isn't either. 

"Glenn? You in here, man?" At Shane's voice, they separate. "We're gonna get going now and--" 

Shane stops and Daryl stomps out of there. Glenn is shaking but for a different reason now. Shane looks at him with concern. 

"Did he do somethin' to you?" 

"No. Of course not. He was worried." 

No matter what Shane says about Daryl, Glenn assures the ex-cop that it isn't true. He's been feeling sick and Daryl has been helping him. Shane scoffs at that, muttering something about the Dixons and Glenn gets angry. He just turns, saying not everyone is how they appear to be, and walks away. He contemplates on the RV and wonders if Daryl wouldn't mind if he rides with him again. But Daryl isn't looking at him. Even after Rick's finished with directions and walking back to the SUV, Daryl doesn't turn to him. So Glenn has no choice but to get on the RV, take his usual passenger side seat, reading the map for Dale. It's always been this so no one but Glenn finds it out of place. Shane doesn't say anything either, and it's best to ignore it until it just goes away. 

He watches Daryl, the dirty stitched wings on the back of his leather vest, the way he drives on the motorcycle. He hates this; it feels like he had done something wrong. Maybe he did, maybe he's enticed this. But he hadn't. It had been the both of them. Things run through his mind so much that he makes himself sick, a hand covering his mouth as he dashes back into the RV's little bathroom. He heaves into the toilet. Everyone is immediately concerned. Andrea rubs his back in gentle circles. Dale tells him to go lie down in the back. He can hardly rest. 

When they stop for the night, people come to check up on him. There are medicine but no one can figure out what's wrong with him. They let him rest inside, leaving him alone. Everyone comes to see him except one. T later tells him Daryl's gone hunting because he knows the area and where good games are. Glenn lays awake all night on his side. His chest hurts, empty. 

 

... _I hate the way you're always right_... 

Glenn has made up his mind and he wants to talk to Daryl about it. It takes a lot of energy to act like nothing has happened. It's harder with Shane being suspicious and side eyeing Daryl, and Dale's compassionate expression letting him know he'll listen if he wants to talk about anything. 

But so many things happen. They get swarmed by more walkers than they want to count. It's the first of seeing so many walkers migrating and everyone is panicking. And they lose Sophia. T gets injured and Carl gets shot. Glenn is biting on his lip as he drives to this farm the girl on the horse had told them about. The group is split for the night and all Glenn can think about is Daryl, even though he should be worried about the situation. 

They search but don't find her. The Greene's are nice, especially Maggie, but he's got too much on his mind. He has to refuse her when she initiates sex; it's so confusing. That day, he takes a brave step towards Daryl. He asks him for a minute. Daryl walks with him around the farm's edge, the tall grass grown up to their waists. 

Glenn has to do it. He has to tell him. 

"I think I really like you." 

Daryl looks at him, his eyes softer than ever. His voice is almost a whisper. "We can't be a burden on one another." 

It's dark enough and no one can see them. Daryl puts his hand in his hair. Glenn doesn't cry. 

"You're right." 

And he hates it so much, this world, this stupid situation they're in. He doesn't want to be weak. He wants to be strong. He knows and hates it because Daryl's right. But he can't hate Daryl because he is right about everything he says. Even if it hurts so much. 

 

... _I hate it when you lie_... 

"Maybe... One day..." 

Daryl's silhouette is etched into the background of the setting sun. Glenn turns away at those words. He wades through the tall grass back towards the camp. 

"You suck at lying even more than me." 

He isn't sure if Daryl's heard it or not. He returns to the camp alone. No one asks him a thing. 

 

... _I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry_... 

Glenn partially blames himself when Daryl comes back with an arrow wound. He is frozen still at the echoing shotgun fire. The moment Daryl's body falls flat on the ground is the moment where he loses some sanity. 

Glenn tries not to but he hovers around the room where Daryl is carried to. He asks Hershel if he needs to get anything. He asks Rick if there's something he can do. Daryl finally opens his eyes and he sees Glenn. Daryl snaps at him to get out. So he does, but he can't sit still anywhere. After T-Dog and Carl, they're out of almost everything. Glenn thinks he should go into town again, to see if he can get some more bandages or even some rubbing alcohol. Dale has to sit him down in the RV, threatens him jokingly that he'll lock him inside. It's getting darker and he can't go anywhere by himself. Hershel would not let him take the horse anyways, since Daryl's lost one during his accident. 

Glenn sits with his head buried in his arms. He goes back up the house, thinking the surgery might be over. Daryl had to get stitches without any anesthetics. At least Carl had been passes out. Daryl is resting in the bed, his head wrapped and the thin sheet over his torso. Glenn has a glass of water in his hand. 

Daryl doesn't tell him to leave but he doesn't meet his eyes. He takes the water though and doesn't yell when he sits on the chair next to him. 

"You're so fucking stupid, you know that?" Glenn says it softly. Harmlessly. 

Daryl sits up a little, wincing at the pain. He must be really hurting to not be able to hide that. 

"It hurts like a motherfucker." Daryl groans. 

Glenn doesn’t know if that's his idea of a joke. He doesn’t laugh at it. There are pale scars peeping out over the sheet, across his chest where he's never been allowed. Daryl hides it well. Glenn doesn't acknowledge it because Daryl wouldn't want him to. He doesn't want to give him any more scars if he can help it. 

"Maybe... One day... When I'm not a burden?" 

Daryl quietly bites down on his lip. It's already bruised; he must have been doing that the entire time Hershel's been working on him. The fingers are twitching over the wrinkled sheet. 

"Maybe. Then we can finish that bottle." 

Glenn remembers. He laughs. And he can't help the tears swelling up in his eyes. There are fingers in his hair. He sobs quietly into his hand. The fingers are so warm and gentle in his hair. 

 

… _I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call_... 

Daryl's frustration and anger after they discover Sophia in the barn and Carol's reaction separates him from the group. Glenn tries but Daryl physically pushes him away, asking to leave him be. It's gentle and Glenn thinks maybe Daryl needs the isolated solace and some time. Daryl had been searching the hardest. Glenn understands that and leaves him alone. It's just that no one else understands this. 

And as much as he tries to understand, he doesn't like it. He wants to be near him, even if it's only distance, because it stings hard when Daryl isn't around. He's scared and can't sleep at night because the next day he might wake up and find the end of the farm where Daryl used to be empty, the motorcycle, the tent, even the dead squirrels all gone. Vanished. And he can't just go up to him and say, take me with you. Daryl will probably laugh in his face. 

Besides, he'd said he wouldn't be a burden to him. 

Then things happen. Dale dies. If that hadn't been enough, the farm gets swarmed. He leaves everything behind, watching the barn and the RV burn. He's in the car with Maggie and neither of them knows what is happening. They somehow get off the farm, on to the highway. He doesn't think about anything. The best way to describe it is that his mind is blank. 

And then he loses it when he hears a thick revving of that familiar engine. He stops the car, not caring about anything. He gets out. The motorcycle comes to a stop. He has to wipe his eyes to make them not blurry. He waits. He hears the heavy boots on the asphalt. He can see the light blues of those eyes meeting his as the sun is rising higher. 

"You're so fuckin' stupid..." 

"I don't care." Glenn whispers. He wraps his arms around Daryl's neck. One arm is pulling him closer by the waist, the other hand digging into his scalp. Daryl is kissing him. Even though Maggie and Carol can see them, Daryl is kissing him. They have to let go. Right now, they have to get back to the highway and hope the others have made it. 

"Glenn... You may be stupid but you were never a burden." 

 

... _But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all_... 

It feels like they've lost everything and then gained even more. It hadn't taken them long to find some place safe to rest. Glenn had the most work to do, trying to scavenge whatever the group needed. They'd all been running until it turned winter. Strangely and luckily, this winter in Georgia is cold. It isn't as cold as Michigan, but everyone needs thicker clothes. Glenn worries for Daryl who has only one long sleeve shirt. He's shrugging but doesn't mind the old blanket Glenn finds for him. He just cuts a hole in the middle and wears it like a poncho. 

Glenn makes fun of him but Daryl doesn't care. At night they settle against one another for warmth. 

One night they find a house in the middle of the wood. There are cans in the cupboard and Daryl hunts some rabbits for them all. It's quiet and the doors are barricaded. They all need to rest and there are rooms enough to lay down in. They don't even risk lighting a fire and have to sleep in the cold. Glenn and Daryl take the smallest room for themselves with a child's bed. They don't care and fall to sleeping spooned together. Until Daryl gets an idea, pulling out something from his pack. 

"You still have that?" 

"Of course. Need to celebrate." Daryl is smiling. Actually smiling. He uncorks and takes a long gulp. Glenn does, too, only because he doesn't want to lose to Daryl. 

"What do we have to celebrate?" Glenn asks. 

Daryl shrugs, handing the bottle back to him. Whiskey burns down his throat and sloshes around his stomach. 

"I can't read your mind, Daryl." 

But Daryl doesn't say what. Maybe, Daryl thinks the same things he's been thinking all along. How it is necessary that he is around him, even if he says things he can't stand to hear. Or all the little things no one else has bothered to notice are the truth about him, and it is for him alone. Glenn hopes the things in his mind are what Daryl is thinking. Even though there really is nothing to celebrate, the little excuse he's made up so that one day they'd end up like this again, is a little bit cute. He isn't sure if it's Daryl or the alcohol warming up his inside. Daryl ruffles his hair, before pulling him in to a warm snug embrace. Glenn laughs softly as Daryl's beard tickles his neck, the lips soft and wet against that sensitive spot along his jaw. And maybe, he can read Daryl's mind after all. And he just can't hate anything about this man, _not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all._

-end-

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for taking an interest and reading my ~~stupid/pointless~~ story!


End file.
